


Soft Tonight

by SilverRowan_Ivy630951



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Captain America Steve Rogers, Comfort No Hurt, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Happy Bucky Barnes, Happy Ending, Happy Steve Rogers, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Steve Rogers, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27116354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverRowan_Ivy630951/pseuds/SilverRowan_Ivy630951
Summary: Steve finally gets to take care of Bucky the way he’d always yearned to, even back when Bucky had taken care of him.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 20
Kudos: 106





	Soft Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daretodream66](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daretodream66/gifts).



> As with my other fics, everything in < > is in another language. In this case, Russian.
> 
> Also, this is gifted to Daretodream66 who writes little stories for me to read when I’m having a shitty day at work. And who listens to me complain about said work, general life, lack of sleep, and my recent inability to put words to paper. And who gave me puppies and kitties and supersoldiers being cute when I asked. (Check out [Bleeding Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680004) if you get the chance. You won’t be disappointed.)

It was a dark and stormy night—because that was how all tales started. Except this wasn’t a tale. And it wasn’t exactly night. It only looked that way outside.

Steve sat on the couch awaiting Bucky’s arrival home.

He’d only recently come back to Steve and Steve was doing his level best to not smother him. He didn’t want Bucky to feel trapped. He’d been held against his will for far too long and Steve wasn’t about to be another name added to the long list.

He couldn’t do anything about the worry he felt whenever Bucky was away, though. There was absolutely no way he could make himself _not_ worry about his best friend, former lover, and forever love. It didn’t even matter that Bucky didn’t seem to remember any of that. He’d come home to Steve. That was enough.

But Bucky was still hurt. Even if he was physically uninjured, there were still decades of pain, torture, and brainwashing in his past. So Steve would worry. But he could also do his level best to take care of Bucky the way he’d always yearned to, even as Bucky had taken care of him.

So now he was watching the storm out the window and waiting for his heartbeat to come home.

When the bolt snicked in the lock and the front door opened, Steve turned.

Bucky had been at his therapist appointment. The relationship was still the early stages, but far enough along that they’d started talking about things that wore him down, wore him out. The days were hit and miss, lately, as far as his mood went.

Bucky trudged in, head hanging, feet dragging across the floor. Without looking up, he seemed to sense where Steve was and headed that way.

When Steve had found out what had been done to Bucky, how the Winter Soldier had been spoken to in mostly Russian, Steve had immediately set out to learn. He wanted Bucky to be comfortable. If that meant speaking Russian instead of English, then Steve would be prepared. Now, he was glad. When Bucky mumbled out his request, Steve was able to understand.

<Can I have a hug?>

He was on his feet in a second, arms wrapping around his best friend. Bucky sank into it and held on tight. Steve gauged the mood and decided to stay silent. Even before he’d become a soldier all those years ago, that was something Bucky had sometimes needed. He’d always said that Steve was restful when they were alone, when Steve hadn’t felt the need to prove himself to anyone.

When Bucky finally loosened his hold to let go some ten minutes later, Steve let him pull back. He studied his expression. Steve didn’t mind that Bucky wouldn’t meet his eyes. He rarely met anyone’s eyes anymore, that cocky confidence of youth long since gone.

Reaching a hand up, Steve carded his fingers gently through rain-damp hair. <Why don’t you go take a shower, let the hot water loosen your muscles and warm you up?>

With his head, Bucky nudged into Steve’s hand the slightest bit before he turned around and silently left.

The second he was closed up in the bathroom with the water running, Steve went around and finished getting things ready. He did his best to stay quiet, knowing that Bucky had hearing as sharp as his own.

He went to his room and started the little crocodile machine in the corner. It was technically meant for children, so it was a bit cartoonish, but Steve didn’t care. It was cute and did exactly what he intended. He then went to the kitchen and poured two large mugs of hot apple cider from the crock pot and glasses of water then left them sitting on the counter.

It wasn’t long before Bucky came out of the bathroom. Barefoot and hair slowly dripping, he’d dressed in soft cotton pants and one of Steve’s baggier hoodies. The hard shoelace-like end of one of the hood strings was in his mouth, seeming to be as much a comfort as the warmth of the hoodie itself. His skin was flushed pink, telling Steve that he’d actually used hot water this time. Good. Steve hated it when Bucky took cold showers. He wasn’t with _them_ anymore. He didn’t have to be cold anymore.

<I have something for you if you want it,> Steve told him. Bucky shuffled forward equal parts shy and curious. As he did, Steve reached into the freezer and pulled out his other surprise.

Popping a few ice cubes out of the mold, Steve dumped them into the mugs of cider. Then he handed one to Bucky. Bucky took it with his hands fully encased in his sleeves. It was adorable. Steve watched as Bucky looked down and began to grin.

Mission objective one: accomplished.

“You made me little gun and grenade ice cubes?” Looking up at Steve, he looked like he was about to laugh.

Mission one: absolute success.

“I thought you’d like them. I’ve got four kinds of dinosaurs, too, if you want some of those for your water glass. Then I’ve got something else to show you.”

Bucky gave a little nod and Steve switched out the molds. Choosing a triceratops and stegosaurus, Bucky picked up both of his cups and waited. Steve added his own ice and reached into a cabinet to grab the colorful crazy straws he’d stashed there earlier to put in the water. He let Bucky pick one of those and watched his smile grow.

Mission one: exceeded expectations.

“Come on. I’ve got something else to show you.” Picking up his own drinks, Steve led the way down the hall to his own bedroom. He opened the door and stepped out of the way.

Bucky peeked in and his eyes went wide. Looking, for a moment, at Steve in astonishment, he almost seemed to float into the swarm that flew around the room. There were bubbles floating everywhere, all emanating from the crocodile’s laughing mouth.

Bucky turned in a circle looking all around. On his face was a look of wonder so pure, so innocent, that it made Steve’s heart ache. He walked in and set his drinks down on the bedside table, then went back to the door and turned out the lights.

Stars, planets, asteroids, and more lit up the ceiling, lit up the room, with a dim glowing light. The motor in the crocodile could be heard whirring in the corner and the bubbles just able to seen floating by. They tickled when they brushed against him and popped.

Without a word, Bucky carefully set his drinks on the side table, too. Then he turned and all but launched himself into Steve’s arms. He hugged Steve tight, burying his face against his neck.

Steve thought it was a good thing until a minute later when he felt moisture. Tears. “Hey,” he soothed, running a hand up and down Bucky’s back. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I wanted you to feel better, not worse.”

But before he could suggest anything to remedy the situation, such as shutting everything down, Bucky shook his head. <Happy,> he mumbled. <Happy.>

Steve instantly relaxed and smiled against Bucky’s hair. Pressing a kiss to his temple, he whispered, <I’m glad.>

Mission two: success.

They were quiet for a while, just swaying, held tight in each others arms. Eventually, though, Steve pulled Bucky over to the bed. He’d piled it high with every sheet, blanket, and pillow—save for the ones in Bucky’s room—and made a soft nest.

Urging Bucky to climb in, he was about to lie down beside it when Bucky’s vibranium arm shot out and grasped his wrist.

<No. In.>

With a tender smile, he did as ordered. The second he laid down, Bucky pressed up against him, snuggling into his arms. Bucky sighed contently and closed his eyes.

For Steve, it was both heaven and hell. Comfort, he reminded himself. Bucky didn’t remember what they used to be. Just him being there was enough for Steve. It would always be enough for Steve.

“I still love you, you know,” Bucky murmured sleepily against his chest.

Steve’s breath caught and his heart stuttered. He was so afraid to take that how he _wanted_ to take it. He wanted Bucky to mean as more than friends, as more, even, than best friends.

He must’ve been silent too long, though, because Bucky pulled back a little and drowsily looked him straight in the eye. Then, leaning forward, he kissed Steve softly on the lips.

Steve closed his eyes and just breathed it all in. Everything in that moment was perfect. Time would help them figure the rest out.

For now, they fell asleep cuddling to the sound of rain softly pattering against the windows.

**Author's Note:**

> Steve set all that stuff up in his own room because, while he hoped, he wasn’t positive how it all would be received. Also, whenever Bucky had nightmares (which was every night) he ended up in Steve’s room anyway. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed finally writing something. Drop me a comment, if you like, and tell me what you thought! I try to reply to everyone, even if it ends up being late in coming.
> 
> P.S. All these things exist. Dinosaur, gun, and grenade molds, the cartoonish laughing crocodile bubble machine, crazy straws (or curly straws, whatever you prefer), and, of course, glow in the dark stars and planets and assorted space stuff. I once had a little waving alien in a flying saucer stuck to my ceiling as a child.


End file.
